


Bad Breaks

by JackRose



Series: Avalanche: Evolution [5]
Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: And Some Underage Drinking, Drinking, Fighting, Fluff but then plot, Good times, Making Merry, Mood Whiplash, Rated Mostly For Swears, bad times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackRose/pseuds/JackRose
Summary: Love, loss, and an epic night out for Lance, as the Brotherhood's actions in New York threaten to catch up with them.





	Bad Breaks

“I’m calling bullshit,” Lance panted, collapsing onto the grass of Xavier’s lawn.  “There is no way you do this every morning.”

Scott, slightly out of breath himself, chuckled as he leaned over, hands on his thighs.  “Not every morning,” he said.  “Tuesdays and Thursdays I run with a weighted backpack.”

“You,” Lance said, after a moment to consider things, and certainly not just because he needed to catch his breath.  “Have something seriously wrong with you, Summers.”

“It gets easier,” Scott said, offering Lance a hand up.

Lance ignored it as he clambered to his feet.  “I’m not kidding.  Early morning exercise has got to be the sign of a sick mind.”  He breathed deeply for a moment, and then added, “So what’s next?  Level ten Danger Room scenario?  Calisthenics with Logan?  Meditate under a waterfall?”

“We haven’t got a waterfall handy, but Mr. McCoy  _ could _ teach you some meditation techniques.  I think they might do you a lot of good.  For now, though, how about breakfast?”  He started walking back towards the mansion, and Lance followed him.  “How’s the kid doing?”

“Pete?  Finally settling in, I think.  He’s either stopped hoarding food or got a lot better about hiding his stashes.  And he helped Pietro saran wrap everything in Tabby’s room while she was out yesterday.”

“Which, for you guys, I guess counts as progress,” Scott deadpanned.  “Look, you did a good thing, getting him out of that place in the city, giving him a place to stay…”

“But what?”  Lance said, turning towards Scott and setting his jaw.

Scott held up his hands.  “I’m going to ask this once, then drop it, but I want you to seriously think about it, and don’t answer me until we get to the kitchen.  Do you think he’ll be better off with you, or here?”

Lance bit down on his initial retort, and stalked ahead of Scott.  By the time the reached the kitchen, he had calmed down somewhat, and turned back to the other young man.  “Okay,” he said.  “First, screw you, Summers.  I know you think you’re better than us, but we look out for each other.  Second… maybe he would be better off here, long term.   _ Maybe _ .  But right now?  He’s crashing on a futon mattress in Pietro’s room because he can’t get to sleep without him around.  Moving him here now would be pulling the ground out from under him just when he’s started to feel safe.”  With that, he turned away and started rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Well, the second half of that was solid team-leader thinking.”  Lance glanced out of the fridge to see Jean entering the room.

“God damn it,” he said, in- mostly- feigned disgust.  “Is this just a time of day that people are  _ awake _ here?”

“Extra psychic training with the Professor,” Jean said, casually floating a protein shake past Lance.  “Actually I wanted to talk to you about that, Scott.  I’m getting a little worried about…” she paused and glanced at Lance.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he said, retrieving a bag of apples from the fridge.  He paused on his way out only to grab a jar of peanut butter from a cupboard.

“See you tomorrow, Alvers,” Scott called after him.

“Seriously, sick mind.  Get help,” Lance called back.

***

It was a nice day out, now that the sun was up and all, so Lance took his breakfast outside, setting up next to the pool.  “Should’ve brought my guitar,” he muttered to himself, cutting a slice off an apple with his pocket knife and dipping it in the peanut butter.

He was munching contentedly away when he spotted Kitty wandering across the lawn.  “Oh, come on,” he said.  “I know for a  _ fact _ that you don’t get up this early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.  “I need to talk to you, Lance.”

Catching the seriousness of her town, Lance shoved the bag of apples away and stood up.  “What’s up, Kitty-cat?”

“I got an acceptance letter.”

“Damn straight you did.  One more for the collection.” Lance said.  “I knew you could do it.”

“I got it a couple weeks ago, actually.  To Oxford,” Kitty continued.

Lance froze.  That was how it felt, his blood suddenly running cold.  “So.  The long distance thing.”

“Lance,” began Kitty.

“No,” he said.  “We can barely make it work half the time when we’re in the same room.  Across the ocean?”

“That’s not… This isn’t me breaking up with you!” Kitty protested.

“No,” agreed Lance.  “This is you getting ready to tell me that you’re going to put an ocean between us and surround yourself with people who can actually keep up when you start talking math and shit.   _ And _ they’ll have sexy British accents.”

Kitty giggled helplessly at that.  “Lance, I’m not trying to replace you.”

“Maybe you should,” said Lance.  “You’re smart, Kitty.  I mean, I never did the whole college search thing, but I’m pretty sure Oxford doesn’t let just anyone in.  You’re smart, and you’re brave and you’ve saved the world how many times?  I’m just a hot piece of ass who happened to be the first mutant you met.  I’m surprised you stuck with me this long.”

“Lance, stop it!”  Kitty was near tears now, but Lance had psyched himself up and wasn’t about to stop.  “You know that’s not all you are.”

“No,” Lance agreed.  “I’m also real fucking good at breaking things.  So yeah, you’re not breaking up with me.  For once, I’m gonna take the lead on this.”  With that he turned and stalked away, breaking into a run as Kitty called after him.  It was either that or turn and run back to her, and he didn’t think he could handle that.

***

He was sitting on the hood of his Jeep, overlooking what remained of Kingman’s Bluff, when the biker found him.

“Is this a ‘You hurt Kitty, now I’m going to track you down and kill you?” He asked Logan as the latter got off his bike.

“Nope,” said Logan.  “You coulda handled it better, but you made the right call.  I think you and I both know the half-pint’s better off without you.”

“Is this you trying to make me feel better?”  Lance asked, torn between curiosity and bafflement at the prospect.

“Nope,” Logan said again.  “This is me telling you that Kitty leaves for England in three days, and if you get her all twisted up about it again before then…”

“You’ll track me down and make my life a living hell.”

“What’d’ya know.  Guess you got something in your head besides rocks after all,” Logan said.

***

It was early evening before he made it back to the Brotherhood House.  Tabby was standing in the driveway and pulled the door to the Jeep open almost before the car had come to a halt.  “Keys,” she said, “And shove over.  I’m DD tonight.  And yes, we’re going out.”

“Tabby, I got shit to do…”

“Yeah.  Pietro and Peter’re are going over the bills for you.  Turns out the kids got a decent head for numbers.  Freddy’s on dinner.  Todd’s up in your room moping, so we’ve got you covered there, too.  Now give me the damn keys.”

Lance shook his head in surrender and handed her the keys.  “I don’t really feel like going out,” he protested.

She slapped him.  “Jesus Christ, get your head out of your ass, Rocky.  You’re Lance goddamn Alvers, the second most badass mutant in a pretty badass bunch.  Stop mooning around like a lovesick puppy, and come out with me and howl at the moon.”

Lance ruefully rubbed his cheek, grinning despite himself.  “Second most badass?”  He asked.

“Damn straight,” Tabby said.

“All right.  One bar,” Lance said, holding up a single finger.

***

Bar number one was a country music place.  Cheep beer and heartbreak music in the background.  A blonde waitress wearing a bandana as a top called Lance sweetie and put a little extra sway in her walk when Tabby not so subtly mentioned that he was recently single.

The music, though, was obviously not helping Lance’s mood, so they left, though Tabby cast a wistful look at the mechanical bull on their way out.”

Bar number two was a proper dive, with a filthy mirror stretched out behind the bartop and a collection of dusty bottles.  Three shots in, Lance was pouring his heart out to the bartender, whose elaborate collection of piercings jingled as he nodded in sympathy.

Bar number three was more properly a club, all strobe lights and pounding bass.  After trying in vain to drag Lance out onto the dance floor, Tabby steered him to a plus chair tucked into a nook in the wall, and deposited herself onto his lap.

“Tabby,” he shouted, over the bass.

“Shut up!”  She shouted back.  “You’re single, you get to enjoy this!  Now I, am going to go get us a couple more drinks, and you-” she jabbed him in the shoulder.  “Are going to watch me go and enjoy the view!  If it takes my sweet ass to remind you there’s more in the world than one nerdy little X-geek, that’s just my cross to bear.”

To be fair he tried- but Tabby was only halfway back from the bar when she spotted Jean striding into the club, followed closely by Rogue, Amara, and an obviously reluctant Kitty.

“Change of plans,” she told Lance.  “We leave out the back.”

Following her gaze, he nodded and jumped to his feet.  “Good.  Can we go home, now?”

“Not yet,” she told him.  “One more bar to hit, and I promise, you’re really going to enjoy this.”

***

“The Falcon?  I thought we all agreed after the Apocalypse thing- no bars in Bayville.  Much less high-school glory day jock bars,” Lance grumbled.

“Oh, yeah, when we’re going out to knock a few back, sure,” Tabby said, pushing the door open.  A hush fell over the crowd inside.  “But I know you Lance.  You’re not going to feel better until you get a chance to break something.”  She nodded at the picture over the bar- Duncan Matthews, in his letterman jacket.

“Hey,” said a large man, a beer gut and thick layer of fat over heavy muscle.  “We don’t want no muties in our bar.”

“Once in a lifetime offer,” announced Tabby, ignoring him and jumping up on a table.  She produced a wad of cash from her pocket.  “Five hundred dollars, to whoever thinks they’re man enough to go one on one with Lance “Rocky Road” Alvers.  He won’t even use his powers.”

There were murmurs throughout the bar, and then Tabby added, “Unless you’re all just a bunch of chickeshit humans.”

A heavyset blond man, wearing his own football jacket stepped forward.  “No powers?”  He said cautiously.

For the first time that night, Lance’s smile lasted more than a second.  “Keith, right?  Big time football star?”  He spat on Keith’s shoe.  “I’d be too embarrassed to use them if I thought I couldn’t kick your ass without them.”

Keith let out a worldless sound of anger and charged at Lance.  It was a respectable attempt at a tackle, coming in low and fast, and if Lance had been weighed down by pads, and already running at a near sprint, he might have been in trouble.

As it was, he stepped out of the way and kicked Keith’s leg out from under him.  Keith came back up with commendable speed and a grunt like a pissed off bull-gorilla, and, several sheets to the wind, Lance didn’t quite get out of the way.

That was fine.  A little pain was just what he needed to focus on the task at hand, and forget why he was getting drunk and picking fights in anti-mutant bars to begin with.  To focus on ducking under Keith’s next swing, stepping inside his guard, and breaking hitting him, hard enough to watch all the swagger go out of him.

That was about where the outcome of the fight stopped being in question, but for the sheer vindictive joy of it, Lance hit the big man several more times before he stepped back and let Keith collapse into a chair.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, making sure they were all more or less in place, then spat a mouthful of blood where they’d scraped his cheek when Keith hit him.  “Right,” he said, slurring slightly as he turned to the rest of the door.  “WHO THE FUCK IS NEXT?”

***

Lance fell as much as stepped out of the jeep, not losing a beat as he sang, loudly and very nearly in key, “Yippi ki yo, yippi ki yaaaay!”

“Yippy ki yaay, mother fucker!”  Called out Tabby, coming around the side of the jeep to help him to his feet.

“Ghost riders in the sky!”  Lance finished.  “No, I’m fine.  Let me just roll over onto the grass.  I’m gonna lay here and stare at the stars until they stop spinning.”

Pietro zipped up beside Tabby.  “So?”  He asked quietly.

“He’ll be okay.  He’ll probably still be a pain in the ass for the next couple weeks, but he had a good time tonight despite his best efforts.”

Peter jogged up behind them.  “He looks really drunk,” he commented, and then widened his already goggly eyes even further.  “Bruises,” he said thoughtfully.  “Couple scrapes and cuts.  Nothing serious, nothing broken.”

“Thanks,” said Pietro, absently tousling the kid’s hair.

Toad was the next to join them.  “Yo, Freddy wants to know if you want food.”

“I’m good,” said Tabby.  “But Rocky here’s going to want something to throw up in a couple of hours.”

“Ghost riders iiiiiin the sky!”  Lance called out.  “Hey.  Hold on.”  He dug in his pocket for a moment, until he produced a cell phone.  “Who the hell has this number?”  He grumbled before answering it.

A deep, basso profundo voice came from the speaker.  “Mr. Alvers did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

Lance forced himself to focus.  “Who is this?”

“You interfered with my operations in New York, Mr. Alvers.  That is not something I take lightly.  There is a price.”

“Who the hell is this?!”

“Good-bye, Mr. Alvers.  Next time we cross paths, I will not be so forgiving.”  The line went dead, moments before something came streaking out of the forest, a fan of flame behind it.  It crashed through the window, and for an instant there was silence.

Then the Brotherhood House erupted in flames.

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes! That sure was something. Who was that on the phone? What will the Brotherhood do about this attack on their home. Is Freddy all right? What's with Lance and country-western music? What sort of food was Freddy cooking? Where is Mystique anyhow? And hey, wasn't there something in the vampire story about a mysterious doctor with access to Apocalypse tech?
> 
> The answer to... some of these questions when Lance Alvers returns in...
> 
> Whatever the next story winds up being titled.


End file.
